


The Shark

by kissmelikeapirate



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M, casino - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:01:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21636283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissmelikeapirate/pseuds/kissmelikeapirate
Summary: Card shark Killian Jones has take Mills Casino for a sweet half a million. So they send in the best woman for the job of bringing him down. But when sparks fly can either of them keep a cool head?
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones & Emma Swan, Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 65





	The Shark

Card shark Killian. For reasons...

White teeth bit down upon blood red lips. Jade green eyes were framed by brows drawn into a straight line. The fingers of her free hand, the one not holding a fan of cards, drummed lightly against the emerald green baize of the card table. 

Killian Jones resisted the urge to smile. Such tells were clearly those of a novice, one not used to the high stakes of Mills Casino and certainly not the cordoned-off area in which they now played, one step before the high stakes section which sat behind a glossy back door behind her. He eyed the stack of golden chips that lay beside the tiny purse she had placed down when she sat, her long legs swivelling around the short stool, revealing the short hem of her red dress. Not short of coin, at least. He hid a smirk, this time by peeling off the black leather jacket he wore. 

The lass with the golden hair nodded, taking another card into her hand. He watched her brow wrinkle for a second.  _ Bust. _ Then her eyes raised, meeting his cool blue ones, a flash of electricity racing through his veins. He took a deep breath. Aye, she was gorgeous, but so was he. Clearly he had been too long without company in his bed if only a glance from an attractive woman sent waves of heat through his body, his groin tightening and then thickening in response.  _ Fuck _ **.** He frowned and concentrated on his cards.

This was child’s play, she thought, as she watched the dealer take her cards and her chips. Pretending to be bad at Blackjack, looking like a beginner, losing a few-  _ hundred  _ \- dollars (expensed, naturally): piece of cake. If she were to be truly honest, the accent threw her. She knew he was British and had been prepared for the queen’s English. But the honey smooth timbre of his foreign tones had threaded straight through her the first time he’d spoken.

She schooled her features in the innocent mask she had practised that afternoon. But ignoring him, well, that had been a little harder. She’d seen a picture, of course. Mills Casino had tabs on all its high rollers, especially when they took the house for a cool half million only a week ago. Actually, Emma had anticipated having to work a little harder to track him down. Surely, he wouldn’t return to the scene of his crime so soon. But the card counting crook had. Maybe he was arrogant. He certainly looked arrogant. All dressed in black, fingers covered in silver rings, shirt unbuttoned to show an almost unseemly amount of chest hair. But that wasn’t just it. There was something there. It was magnetism. Something that didn’t come across in a security image or a copy of his ID. He radiated confidence and… heat. Even from across the table she’d had to thank her great foundation for the hiding the blush she felt when their eyes met and she saw their deep blue.

And blushing was not her. Not Emma Swan, hard ass, ex con, best damn bail bonds person on the east coast.

She signalled to the waitress and ordered a Manhattan. She didn’t often drink on the job, but this was medicinal. She needed to think straight. To relax.

Her lips caressed the rim of the glass. Images of more enjoyable uses for that mouth taunted him every time he looked in her direction. He should stop looking. He was here to work. Almost a week’s break - in honour of the nice payday he had won last week - had been unheard of time for him until now. Routine was important. Focus was essential. Mistakes - fatal. 

Tonight was for taking it easy. Perhaps it was brazen to show his face again, at least so soon. But he was almost certain his activities had gone undetected. That said he had done nothing illegal… more frowned upon. Frowned upon with fists. By casino security. He flinched briefly as he remembered his first foray into the depths that department. He’d had a swollen lip and black eye for a week. And he’d learned a valuable lesson.

She ran her finger tips along her clavicle. Her long wavy hair had fallen over her shoulder, sweeping along the low neckline of her dress, the shade of her cleavage drawing his eyes. 

_ Bloody hell.  _ What was it about her? He felt… drunk. Even though his two fingers of rum had remained untouched since he sat down. The cards were turned and he lost. Again. Three hands in a row, his count had been obliterated by blonde hair and long legs. 

_ Enough. _

He picked up his glass and downed the contents in one go. He nodded to the dealer and tossed him a couple of chips before picking up his jacket and heading for the exit.

_ What the fuck? _

She racked her mind for the file she had built up on him.

Killian Jones never, _ never _ , left a table before he had at least doubled up. And he never left the casino floor before 3am. She glanced at her watch. It was just after midnight.

She had to get him tonight. Tomorrow, he could be gone. This was the first sign of him in days. She could just call out regular security to stop him, but Regina Mills valued discretion above all else. She did not want even a whiff of a scene. Which was why her services had been needed.

A second later, she was following him, making rapid little steps in her too-high heels as she headed for the VIP exit that meant high rollers didn’t have to walk the whole casino floor to get to their hotel room - or back onto the street.

She nodded at Tiny, the tall, bearded security officer who held open the door for her, as she made her pursuit. But she had only made a few paces along the dimly lit corridor before she felt a hand upon her wrist. A warm, strong hand. It was him, he’d been waiting where corridor intersected with another, stepping out to block her way as she halted in shock.

She thought he had blue eyes? No, they were sapphire. Dazzling sapphire. Hot, glittering sapphire.

This was the moment when she should have protested, men did not grab her without hearing a piece of her mind. Instead, she shook her arm free and stepped back.

Killian enjoyed watching her expression change - from shock to curiosity to idignance. If he said he wasn’t used to the way women reacted to him, well, he’d be a liar. And a liar he was not. Bending the truth however... 

“Can I help?” he asked, rubbing his fingertips across his lips.

She looked momentarily stunned as if she did not know what to say. But she had followed him. He’d watched out the corner of his eye as she had seen him leave. Things were getting interesting. He liked interesting.

“Are you lost, love?” he asked, caressing the endearment with his tongue, taking a step closer and enjoying her flush.

Her shoulders straightened and she smiled. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

_ Interesting.  _ Well then…

He reached out and cupped her cheek. “You blush when you’re winning.”

“I do not-” she protested.

His land moved lower and skimmed across the exposed skin of her chest. “Here,” he added.

He could feel the racing of her heart as his fingers moved. His own pulse answered with a similar beat. By God, she was magnificent.

This was not going according to plan, she thought, as her skin burned from his touch. The cuffs should be on already. He should have been dragged down to the security room by now. Instead she was staring, her mouth a little open, her gaze fixed upon his stubble coated cheek which his knuckles has just passed over. Would those little hairs be hard and rough, or soft? She held out her hand and touched it. Soft, she thought, kissable.

Clearly there was some mutuality in that thought. His gaze dropped to her lips. His free hand found her waist and drew her closer. Then, his mouth was upon hers.

Soft and warm and strong. He tasted like spiced rum. His musky cologne mixed with the smell of the expensive leather jacket he wore. She sank into his kiss, letting her mind block out all the (very good) reasons that this was a very, very bad idea. Convincing herself it was just a kiss as her fingers slotted into his hair and he turned her, pressing her back against the flocked wallpaper of the corridor wall, sliding his thigh between hers. His heavy arousal pressed against her hip and she ground against it. Revelling in the feeling of power it gave - well, the illusion at least.

If the urge to pull up her skirts and take her right there had been even a little stronger, he would not have been able to resist. But Killian Jones was nothing if not a gentleman and even for him, taking a lass up against the wall in a public corridor would be a faux pax. He didn’t even know her name, and such information was a bare minimum requirement for his bed partners, or not bed in this case. He let his hands caress her waist and the delicious curve of her hips, drawing under her buttocks and pulling her tighter against him, torturing himself with the sensation of bodies entwined save for a few layers of infernal clothing. He wanted her. God, he needed her. The ache in his blood since she’d first appeared was reaching fever pitch.

He moved his lips to her neck, nibbling down the soft skin, allowing his lust to cool a moment.

“Do you have a name, love?”

_ Name. _ Yes, she had a name.

The question had cracked the spell she was under. Not broken it, she still felt heady with desire and something a little stronger than lust. But her name... It was at stake. This rogue, this scoundrel, with the silken tongue and gorgeous accent was her mark. She laid her head back against the wall, took a deep breath and tried to clear her head and ignore the sensation his lips were making upon her neck.

“Yeah, I do. Swan. Emma Swan,” and with one hand she reached into her purse and pulled out the cuffs she had brought. “Mill’s Security.”

He froze, his lips pulling away from her skin as the words sunk in.

“Ah,” he sighed. He jerked, ready to make a move. But, she was quicker. In a few quick moves, she had his face pressed where she had been, his hands behind him and she was fastening the cuffs. He didn’t struggle, which at first gave her pause, until she swung him around and saw the arrogant smile on his lips.

“Well lass, if that’s what you’re into, you just had to ask.”

She rolled her eyes, “Watch it, buddy.”

“Indeed I shall,” he replied, his eyes travelling down her skimpy red dress.

She pushed him ahead of her along the corridor.

Well, this was a turn for the books. Never had he been bested in such a manner. It felt oddly amusing. Perhaps more so if he wasn’t still feeling somewhat amourous, his body protesting against the abbreviation of the enjoyable activities. He liked this woman, this  _ Swan. _ The name suited her. Graceful, elegant, strong. No one messed with a swan; powerful buggers they were if you got too close. 

_ Well then. _

He let her steer him along the corridor, taking a left before the exit, stopping at a large unmarked door. She punched a code into the security pad beside it and pushed the door open. Inside, there was a table with a chair on each side and little else to speak of. 

She nudged him to sit.

“So, Swan, not you have me all to yourself, what now?”

She might have rolled her eyes at his question but she couldn't hide the blush. “Puh-lease, you are far too into yourself.”

“Merely an avid observer of womankind.”

She licked her lips. “You sit, I make a call, I get paid and you…” She let the words hang in the air before shrugging. “Well, that’s not my area.”

He chuckled, noting the interesting shiver of disappointment that rippled down his spine. “Tis a pity.”

“Yeah,” she hummed, letting her eyes linger on him for a moment as she reached for the door handle. She squared her shoulders. “Sit tight, revenue protection have a few things they want to talk to you about.”

One last time, she met his eyes. He fancied he saw regret. 

Then the door closed.

She made the call from the courtesy phone along the hall, cell service being patchy at best in the depths of the casino. Now all she had to do was wait, make the handover and then head home for a hot bath and a large glass of pinot. Or two.

Her skin began to rapidly cool as the fever of those moments together faded into memory. God he could kiss. And his hands… and… She flushed as she revisited the sensations. She’s almost lost herself in the embrace. If it had gone on a moment or two more-

The back of her hand pressed against her mouth. He was a fraud, a conman, a manipulator. Making people feel things was what he did. It meant nothing. Even if it had been so long since she had felt anything beyond the basic mechanics attraction. It had just been to long. That was it. 

She tapped her foot impatiently. They should be here in a moment. She should check on him. 

Hurrying back to the room, she stilled her breathing before entering the code to open it. She would just check. Make sure he was… well, something. The door opened and she peered inside. The handcuffs were on the floor, a corner of the carpet pulled away to reveal a small trap door. More importantly, there was no Killian Jones.

_ Mother fucker! _

Brushing himself off, Killian made his way out of the underground parking lot. The cuff key he always carried was tucked away in his vest pocket. He made a mental note to send Tiny a bonus, those details about the service shafts has come in very useful.

If he felt regret as he joined the busy mele outside the casino, he pushed it away. She was just another woman, this swan. Nothing to concern himself over.

And if he paused at the next sight of blonde hair and red fabric, well, that was another matter.


End file.
